Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
by Takhira
Summary: An attempt at peace turns into a declaration of war. All Atlantis has to its advantage are its principles. Have they changed enough to win this war, or has the Stargate Program alienated its allies?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

No one had come down to the brig since Atlantis had landed on earth. Three weeks had gone by, slowly and monotonously. The only way of telling time was by the changing shifts of the guards. The lights never darkened; the temperature never changed. The brig was its own, pathetic, and forgotten little world of nothing. It was just a bland cage with nothing in it save for a single bland occupant—though patient and abiding—was by now also considered nothing.

Todd wondered if, whatever convoluted bureaucracy the humans constantly struggled with, had no plan for him and, just as he was, were waiting for one to present itself. Humans did often lack the ability to think of things too far ahead-especially when he was involved.

He did his best not to let on that he was looking for a plan to present itself; John had made it quite clear what he'd do if he even thought Todd was looking for one, let alone thinking one up. He'd heard the threat from someone else long ago and it had worked… until he began to speak to John. It was because of John that Todd was no longer behind bars and it was because of John that Todd was behind bars now. This time, the threat was not going to work. This time, Todd would do whatever it took to defy his captivity and taste true freedom, no matter how it ended for either of them. He wouldn't do it for himself this time; he'd do it because he owed the man.

He had done nothing but survive, live from day to day, for so many years he had failed to see the point of keeping track of them until John had done everything short of beating him to get the message across that dying free was better than rotting away in someone else's basement. He went to such lengths to show him hope, only to know that once Todd had tasted it, he could forever dangle it just out of reach while laughing. John had apparently grown bored with that game—or just decided he no longer liked Todd's less-than-concerned attitude—and just abandoned him altogether with the statement that if Todd showed hope for such freedom again, he'd take Todd's life away first.

Freedom was no longer Todd's goal. It was not out of pettiness or cowardly resignation, or even spite, but out of a sense of duty and debt. He'd given John's life back years ago; this time he would repay in tutelage. Before, John showed him what he believed humanity truly was. Todd wanted an opportunity to do the same.

By now, Todd wondered if he should still keep track of how long he was imprisoned. The genii, at least, had some use for him. It was merely a formality-no matter how skilled Todd had become at escaping in recent years—to leave the force field on while closing and locking the brig doors.

John arrived, shooing the soldiers away.

His usual peeved attitude toward the wraith was accompanied by a sense of melancholy that he was either trying to hide or fight. He wasn't dressed for duty, merely a tee-shirt and jeans, and his hair was in even more disarray than usual.

Todd stood to greet him, but that was it. They were at a standstill, locked in what is known as _mamihlapinatapai_—two people wanting the same thing, but each unwilling to take initiative. To Todd, this was John's city, and John had made it clear that he was not welcome. To John, this he was ruining Todd's 'next time'; he was a jackass.

John shoved his hands in his pockets.

Todd blinked.

John sighed.

Todd tilted his head in confusion. He didn't move any closer, but he was now truly curious as to what John was trying to force himself to say.

"Stargate Command's decided to move you to Area 51," John said, looking at his shoes. There, he'd said it. He wondered why he felt worse now. He didn't know why he felt bad at all in the first place. For a wraith who was polite enough to stay out of his head, Todd had a knack for messing with it in other ways.

Todd's expression of curiosity hardened into something unidentifiable. "I see," he said.

"So you've heard of it?" John asked. As far as he could tell, Todd's knowledge of things was random at best and based around what he could steal at worst.

"It is where you put things you want to forget and the world to never know of," Todd said. "Will you at least tell me: When you spoke of how little worth there was in a life spent in a cage for eternity, were those words meant to be hollow, or merely for yourself?"

"What do you expect me to do?" John complained, taking his hands out of his pockets and waving his arms.

This wasn't how he wanted things to go. Todd was supposed to be upset, or at least ignorant of the whole thing. He was supposed to be the good guy, offer manly comfort, and then send Todd on his way. Why did Todd keep ruining his ability to help by telling him to piss off or asking questions that made him look bad?

"I do not expect you to do anything," Todd said. "My fate is no concern of yours."

"Look, this isn't my fault!" John said.

"No, it is not," Todd said. "It is mine for believing in your deception for years."

John wanted to explain, but, he didn't. He wanted Todd to understand, but he also thought Todd wouldn't believe him. He wanted to know things were better this way and that Todd should hold out hope, but he didn't believe that. He didn't like what Todd was saying, but he didn't know why he should care. He felt his ambiguity would disappear if he told himself Todd was just upset and trying to get out of it. "So… this is 'goodbye.'"

"Enjoy your freedom, Sheppard."

…..

John woke up to someone trying to contact him over his radio. Yawning , he reached over and grabbed it off the nightstand.

"Huh?" he asked, holding it to his ear.

"Please see me in my office," Woolsey said over the device.

"Do you know what time it is?" John asked, grabbing his clock. If he was going to argue, he wanted to be right. It said 4:59 am. There had better be a good reason for this.

"Early enough I'm not in a mood to repeat orders," Woolsey replied. "SGC's sending a helicopter to pick you up. I'll explain during the trip."

"Is this as serious as it sounds?" John asked.

"Several marines are dead and Todd's missing."

…..

The helicopter ride was unpleasant enough to be considered aggravating, but hardly uncomfortable enough to detract from how suspicious circumstances had been in the last few hours. Too many details piled up and happened too precisely and too much was unknown as a result.

No one from Atlantis noticed, but the trip was worse for the pilot. He thought landing through the cloak would be the end of his problems, but he had barely been briefed on Atlantis. He had no idea what had happened or what a wraith was, but the more they contemplated and explained the situation, the worse he felt, even in the air.

Woolsey explained the situation to John, Teyla, and Ronon as they passed thermoses of coffee between back and forth. "Stargate Command wanted to avoid places that were heavily populated and to avoid heavy traffic in case something happened."

"Didn't work, did it?" John retorted.

"The trip was supposed to change drivers twice with no other stopovers. They never made it to the rendezvous point with the second driver." Woolsey continued over the noise of the helicopter. "No one from the car managed to radio a distress call. A news helicopter alerted the Onizuka Air Force Base when they saw the car on its side between two pile-ups on highway 106. The county's not happy the Air Force took over the investigation, but they said they'd let us take over if we get the highway clear in a few hours and leave immediately. This state's not big on military intervention and we're already trying to tell the media they're panicking over nothing."

"At least he'll be easy to spot" John said, sipping from the thermos. "And it's not like he can drive even if he figures out how to steal a car."

"He also has no incentive to make this pleasant or easy for us," Woolsey said. "He could cause a lot of trouble or, given that he knows nothing of earth, could get into some."

Despite Woolsey's intentions, his remarks caused Teyla to snort coffee back into the thermos she had taken from John. "We have to worry about someone taking advantage of a wraith?" she asked, laughing.

"He couldn't have blocked the radio by himself," Ronon said. To him, it was all just a matter of finding out who to shoot.

"Who'd want to help Todd escape?" Teyla asked.

"Someone who knew Todd was in the truck, probably," John said pointedly.

"What would be the point?" Woolsey asked, feeling he was missing half the conversation.

"Blackmail, ransom, expose the Stargate Programs for dumb reasons… been there, done that," John said, shrugging. For early in the AM, things weren't as confusing at he thought they'd be. Disastrous, yes, but he could easily understand it now that he'd had some coffee. At this rate, they'd find Todd just before lunch…their lunch.

"How do we figure out which of those they intend to do?" Woolsey asked, hoping someone else would be serious about this.

"How do we know Todd's cooperating?" Ronan asked. It'd be easier to solve both problems by just shooting Todd. If the wraith was wandering around, he was likely to give Stargate Command reason to let him shoot Todd. Problem solved. Things were easier when everyone was either a bad guy or good guy. Grey areas got your ship set to crash into a planet and lots of people whining about blame.

"How do we know Todd's alive?" Teyla asked. She didn't express much care about Todd's life. Ally or not, he was still a wraith. Her job was to see if she could sense him. If he was dead, she was a dead weight and likely considered a burden by the armed forces. If there were better ways to help, she wanted to volunteer for those and, not stand around being useless.

John winced at the comment, though he didn't know why. He'd seen nasty wounds; lost limbs; even deaths one would have to clean up with a mop; whatever his uneasiness was, it wasn't from remembering those incidents. Now things were getting confusing.

He wondered who had the coffee.

"It's been over an hour since the crash and there's a lot he can get into. If he we don't hear about having to scrape an alien off something when we get on the ground, he's fine."

"I think we should be a bit more worried about cleaning up after him," Woolsey said. A wraith was loose, someone one was intelligent enough to wreck an armored car, and the best people to solve the problem thought this was little more than a nuisance.

"Usually when something like this happens, we just have to wait until whoever started the whole mess comes crying for us to clean it up," John said. "Given Todd, they might just hand him back without a fight if he's cranky enough."

Woolsey sighed. As long as these three proved as competent as they were confident, it didn't matter. If they were going to change their minds, it wouldn't happen up here.

…..

The helicopter landed as close as possible to the scene of the accident.

The armored car was on its side, spaciously sandwiched between two piles of cars. The street was littered with bullet shells, blood, and bodies. The day was still dark, moths gathered innocently around the lamps that only lit of small areas with bright, coarse, light. With the cars lying themselves like cold corpses and the striking chiaroscuro of the scene, and the large amount of bodies that were present, the scene should have been dramatically eerie in its resolute quiet.

Instead, it just gave off a feeling of dullness. Inanimate objects lay where they were, their innate indifference obvious and unimpressive. The stillness of the air was neither stifling, nor hinting at some great vastness of the cosmos. Despite the scrutiny everyone gave it, the scene seemingly wished to be passed over, its greatest impression on those who were here being that of denying its own importance and trying to hint at what they were looking for was somewhere else.

There was only one doctor and her three assistants attending to the scene. Neither noticed the newcomers due to the darkness; to them, the helicopter was just full of more superiors bent on yelling at each other and had nothing to do with them. The doctor made no movement towards them, even after an assistant pointed them out to her; she finished the job at hand before even turning towards them.

"You're the people from Atlantis, I take it?" she asked politely. "The wraith experts?"

"Yep," Ronon answered. He always prefered to be as concise as possible.

"I'm Dr. Goldstein, forensics examiner for SGC," she said, gesturing for them to follow her as she turned away. "We have to clear out the scene when you're done, so take your time. Maybe you'll find something we can use." The doctor did noting to hide the fact that she was eager, almost professionally giddy to learn what they could glean from what she told them.

Almost as if it had been practiced, Dr. Goldsten took a flashlight from a waiting assistant, who immediately set about to another task, and climbed into the over-turned armored car. "Don't disturb anything, please."

The inside was already starting to smell mildly of tainted meat and flies were gathering. Everywhere her flashlight shone was something gruesome and disturbing, almost as if the ennui outside had cleverly hidden this from view just to laugh at their surprise and repulsion.

Woolsey stood back to give the others room; he was just here to babysit and explain—at worse give legalese in case something happened. Besides, they had to carefully step around two bodies to get to the car. He was not about to risk messing up a crime scene or getting in the way just to be useless.

"We've more or less pieced together what happened to the wraith for the first few minutes," Dr Goldstein said. "What was its name again?"

"Todd," John said. It was looking less and less like they could blame Todd for anything. Too bad; it was so much easier when they could.

There were two more bodies in the truck. The soldiers outside had been killed far more cleanly than these. The soldier in the rear of the truck had been shot in the back the head. The one in the front had been shot in the chest and his hand had been shot through. As gruesome as a death by a wraith was, at least you never needed a hose afterward.

"Most of what we've found about him is from splatter," Dr. Goldstein said, waving the flashlight to show the blood on more than just the floor. John doubted forensic scientists made many friends. "Snipers—we believe two or three—took out the driver and tires, which is why the car tipped over. They kept shooting until it was on its side." She pointed a small hole in the 'floor'. "I sent samples of the blood to the labs to confirm all this, but the placement correlates with where Todd was sitting and the height would indicate the bullet hit somewhere in the upper back, probably the shoulder. There's no exit wound splatter. It's also the only wound we can't match up to any of the other bodies."

She moved her flashlight to shine on the damaged hand of the soldier in the front. There seemed to be less of the hand in the intense light. Bone gleamed like pieces of expensive porcelain that had carelessly been dropped and gristle glistened like strings made of fake diamonds. Bits of dark metal and wires had tried to hide away in pieces of flesh, as if trying not to disturb the morbid beauty of the incandescent light shining down on the sickening masterpiece.

"His radio was shot first when the doors opened; the blood splatter, though, would indicate Todd was crouching behind him." The light from her flashlight shot from the destroyed hand to vague dots of dried blood on the floor and walls.

"Odd," Teyla remarked. "It was following orders."

"It doesn't usually follow orders?" Dr. Goldstein asked.

"Not when it doesn't have to," Teyla said, scoffing at several memories.

"He still had his cuffs on, didn't he?" Ronon asked, as a rebuttal.

"We haven't found any evidence those were taken off, no," Dr. Goldstein said, not entirely following the conversation.

"But he did leave," Teyla stated angrily, her emotions directed at wraith instead of the alien she was arguing with.

"Why'd he wait?" John asked. Great, more mysteries involving Todd. Just what he needed before the sun came up.

"Threats, most likely," Dr. Goldstein said, interrupting the group. "There's splatter on the back wall and on the clothes of the corpse in the back and a droplet pattern on the floor. These match up with its shoulder wound and being struck on the side and jaw with something heavy if it were standing." She moved the flashlight again, this time to shine on the back of the closest soldier. No one could see anything of interest, not even an interesting new pattern of blood. "There's a vague set of footprints here from someone we can't account for."

The uneasy feeling John had had when talking to Todd was back again and he didn't know why. Thankfully, Ronon spoke up before him.

"Seems straightforward," Ronon said, crossing his arms. He wanted to get to the action. Especially the action that involved shooting something. It was a simple way of thinking, but when one has spent almost a decade where killing is a priority, things tend to simplify themselves.

"Well, you know it better than I do," Dr. Goldstien said, ignoring the accusation of possibly wasting their time. "The thing did leave some interesting footprints of its own, though." She shone the flashlight on the pool of blood from the far soldier. It was only a messy, partial print with small droplets from a splash littered around it. "He stepped back when he was hit. The footprints lead to the edge of the car, then to the street," she said, her flashlight highlighting the prints and resting to shine on the last one.

"Most of the blood was on the heel, but this one indicates pressure was put on the ball of the foot after he stepped down. This is where the prints end, too."

"You have no idea why, I take it," John said, covering up the fact that he didn't either. The only good news was that he wasn't going to have to help cover up picking alien bits off something.

"He took off his shoe," Teyla noted.

"Huh?" John asked. "He was still cuffed, though."

"He used his other foot," Teyla said. "He—" She looked down at her army-issued boots. No possible demonstration there. She looked at the doctor. High heels. Still wouldn't work. "Mr. Woolsey!" she called out. She preferred to call others by their first names, but that was his strange, overly professional preference and she never argued about it.

"Did you find anything?" he asked, approaching them and doing his best to keep his poise while maneuvering around the bodies.

"Can you take your shoe off without using your hands?" Teyla asked. Loafers. Perfect.

"I don't understand," he said.

"Can you show them how?" she said, nodding vaguely at the group. "You don't have to take it off completely."

"If you insist," Woolsey said, doubting he wanted to know why this nonsense was necessary. He shifted one foot so that his heel was off the ground and with the other foot, pushed on the back of the shoe with his toes. Once the back of the shoe was loose he slipped his foot out of the shoe halfway, showing that such a task was easy for even him.

"Thank you," Teyla said before turning back to the group.

"So, if that's what happened…why?" John asked.

"Thoroughness," Ronon answered immediately. "No tracks." Ever. No matter what. "They didn't want to take chances with anyone knowing which way they took him."

"How is it that no one heard all this?" Teyla asked.

"I don't understand," Dr. Goldstein said.

"Gunshots aren't uncommon on earth," Woolsey told her, making sure his sure was firmly back on his foot. "Not around here." He didn't go into the fact that cars made similar noises.

"Why not?" Tyela asked, confused. "That means they're shooting at someone, which is serious."

"Or they're trying to," Ronon corrected.

"That's not always the case on this planet," Woolsey said calmly. One of these days someone was going to have to explain many, many, many seemingly unimportant or contradictory details of earth to the two aliens they'd recruited from the Pegasus Galaxy. That someone was inevitably going to be him for the most part, and he'd known it for years. He still didn't want to. "In this country, it's legal for nearly any citizen to own a gun."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Teyla asked.

"Welcome to earth," John said.


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Goldstein gained more and more information, even after the scene was cleared. She worked as fast as the tests and what evidence that presented itself would allow. She discovered a lot, but none of them were leads.

Most of the cars had been stolen, though there was no pattern to the place or time the thefts had happened. The only fingerprints that had been discovered were those of the soldiers and Todd, and only the latter had left footprints—though no new ones. Four soldiers had been taken down by sixe men on the street: ten bodies together. All four had clean records. All of the six were eventually traced as ex-NID members, a clue that at first lifted everyone's spirits until the other proverbial shoe had dropped. There was nothing to do with such a revelation. There was no one to question, nothing to indicate a place or person to investigate, not even a hint that even the trust was involved.

After that, more dead-ends began to crop up. There were train tracks barely fifty yards from the scene. Todd's shoe had been found, having been run over twice.

All this was the least of Major Landry's problems. Homeworld security thought too much time was being wasted hunting Todd down; the IOA was fractured as to what to do beyond blame him; and they only thing Atlantis could deliver, with all their advanced technology, self-appointed genius, and someone who claimed to have been the closest thing Todd had to a friend, was to argue that it was still a good idea that they had taken the subspace transmitter from him.

It had been two days and they had yet to find anything that hinted at 'people-eating monster'. How did someone six feet tall, in prison coveralls, and green suddenly make _Where's Waldo_ something easy to finish?

He wasn't surprised when his cellphone rang. Both phones had been ringing a lot recently. What did surprise him was that the caller was not demanding any reason there was still a wraith somewhere it shouldn't be. "I would like to speak to Dr. Daniel Jackson. Is this him?"

"Who is this?" he asked. He wanted to ask why they thought bothering him now of all times was a good idea.

"My name is Jesse Lee Duquesne." They said.

Dumb question, Landry realized. Thankfully, they gave some actually useful information.

"I am at the Willows Inn on Market Street in San Francisco," the mystery caller continued. "Can you arrange for me to speak to Dr. Jackson?"

He could practically feel the person on the on the other end roll their eyes at him. He reciprocated. "How did you get this number?"

"You are missing an alien that is dangerous, confused, and easy to aggravate. Are you close to finding it?"

"How do you know about that?" Landry asked. He was supposed to be asking the questions and he wasn't supposed to need to.

"I am about to hang up," the caller said, doing their best to keep their aggravation in check. "I can promise you I will have nothing to do with whether or not word of this gets out. I can promise you information on the whereabouts of the alien, but only if I have an opportunity to speak to Dr. Jackson."

"This is a matter of national security, I—"

Suddenly the voice over the phone changed. It was deeper, louder, with a slight echo. The same body was speaking, but perhaps not the same 'person'. Whether this was a Goa'uld or Tok'ra didn't matter. Things had just gotten worse and he'd just been given a new laundry list of important questions he couldn't answer. "I will give you nothing if I do not speak to Daniel Jackson. You risk exacerbating this situation greatly if you detain me. I am willing to show my goodwill by allowing you to sequester me here until you see fit until I speak with him. The front desk knows to direct you to my room and to give you my number. Good luck." With that, Jesse hung up.

Landry was not impressed in the slightest. But then, he has nothing else to rely on. California was not a small state. It was not an appreciative state. Worst of all, it was not a convenient state.

Almost hundred-thousand homeless, add to that the amount of runaways, substance-abusers, tourists, and just plain shady people no one would ever notice missing… Landry had to conjure up a better miracle than the one that had just landed in his lap or start figuring out how to guard a hotel room without causing a scene.

He sighed and stared at the phone, dreading admitting to even himself that calling Jesse was his only option. He didn't know how he was going to arrange this, as now he had two aliens he needed help from but couldn't trust. There were so few things he knew about Jesse: Was this a trap? What information did Jesse have? What risk was there? What gender was this person?

…

Things had gone form very bad to worse the day before. Now they had gone from worse to a level of dangerously confusing that could only be judged by Neo-Noir stories.

Three days ago, an alien had gone missing, with no clues as to where it had been taken. Two days ago, another alien had called to offer help in finding the first. Three days later, the air force had the good luck to discover and cover up a strange forensic find from an unrelated murder.

In a city just south of where Todd had disappeared, known as Stockton, a man was found murdered. Technically this was in no way unusual for the city or even the state. He'd been killed on the street, in a dark and filthy alley at night—again, nothing out of the ordinary. The police had assumed it would be just another cold case until the forensics lab had found tiny bones and bits of flesh wrapped around the top of the man's spinal cord.

More aliens.

No clues… unless they agreed to ask for them. It was time to get some answers, starting with 'How long does it take to get to San Francisco?'

….

Jesse was almost unnaturally calm about the arrangement. Snipers had been situated in the buildings across the street to keep an eye on Jesse, who gave nearly every possible detail to confirm the hotel room. Jesse wasn't allowed to move from the room until the army allowed, even after the discussion with Daniel. Somehow, Landry didn't expect Jesse to stay there, despite how happy Jesse was to comply. Then again, both things going their way and silence from their enemy were never good signs, making their combination an almost nauseating experience.

…..

Daniel had no idea what he was doing. What was he going to say? 'Hi, so where's the wraith?' He didn't even know what a wraith was for the most part. Landry wanted A face-to-face interview with this Jesse person based mostly on suspicion—a tiny part wanted Daniel to find out which pronoun to use in regards to them—this didn't help Daniel figure out what to say or what to keep an eye out for in regards to this 'mystery savior'.

The hotel wasn't the usual cheap-yet-trying-hard-to-be-friendly mess he had become accustomed to in his travels prior to joining SG-1. The atmosphere here had taken measures to be tranquil and calming to the point of being soporific. There was a heavy sense of sleep-inducing dullness to strange and seamless mix of rustic and modestly modern styles throughout hotel.

The door opened soon after he knocked on it.

"Dr. Jackson?" the person at the door greeted. Daniel hadn't spoken to Jesse on the phone, but Landry had no clues to tell the gender. Now, actually seeing Jesse up close, gave no evidence either way still. Jesse was an inch shorter than Daniel himself, with prominent physical characteristics that defined Korean descent. Jesse's hair was short, in a professional-looking version of an outgrown buzzcut, again alluding nothing toward whether both genes were X or if one was Y as both he himself and many other men had worn the same cut, but so had Sam. The very last, and most obvious hint that Jesse preferred to lie somewhere in the spectrum of 'how should I know?' and 'beats me' in terms of gender appearance were the neatly pressed business clothes: a simple suit, complete with tie and polished shoes that revealed only that Jesse did not intend for a causal chat in regards to the inevitable ultimatum planned.

"Uh, yeah, so… why exactly am I here Miss…t—uh…"

"In South Korea, I am Jesse Lee; here I am Mr. Jesse Duquesne." Jesses gestured for Daniel to follow and enter the hotel room, and then closed the door after Daniel.

"So… 'Welcome to San Francisco'?" Daniel asked. It would explain a lot. On the calm days, when the government sat still and meddled in no one's affair and no holidays were in sight, the city of San Francisco adorned every street pole with rainbow flags; dialog, graffiti, advertisements, and even hired fundraisers screamed about something related to the LGBTQ community; and every sidewalk had someone considered 'out of the norm' in any way casually tucked into some corner. Jesse's refusal to stand on a side of the gender-defining fence and stay there was mild in comparison to regular citizens of the city.

"Exactly," Jesse said, pulling out a chair from the desk near the window. He sat down and gestured for Daniel to do so on the bed.

"So… why me?" Daniel asked, taking the offer to sit down.

"I was the one who suggested that SGC find a way to sequester me here before our meeting," Jesse said, leaning back and lounging in his chair without losing either professional or confident poise. "You have at least two snipers who can easily take me out where I'm sitting and I'm not about to move any time soon. As much as this…'snake' as your friend often calls it has helped me in financial success and a bit of cunning, Jesse—the human alone—will be speaking and has agreed to any proposed decisions on his own free will. Is there anyone else in your program who'd believe me about this better than you?"

The real question that Jesse was asking was 'Who would be smart enough to realize I am giving you a true advantage over me on purpose and not take it as an immediate threat?' He had also addressed how much Daniel both despised and distrusted Goa'uld, and had almost blatantly said that whenever Daniel felt like it, could end the lives of both the symbiote and host; Jesse was determined to put himself in a martyr position just to be trusted as willing host. Yet, due to his posture and almost smarmy tone, doing all this intentionally was part of a larger scheme to get what he wanted.

"Not really," Daniel said. If he was going to play a game of secrets with a Goa'uld—or something similar—he'd had to have some of his own to keep. "Why all this?"

"As in 'what do you want?' or as in 'I'm no going to get it no matter what?'" Jesse asked. "Because if this is the latter, our discussion is over."

Daniel leaned back, sighed, and rolled his eyes. Why…just, why couldn't anything be easy?

"Since it seems to be the former, I expect you have some questions," Jesse said. "First: No, I don't know where he is. Second: I do have information on him I believe Stargate Command would be interested in getting their hands on. Third: If I do receive what I want, I might be able to find out where he is. Fourth:-" Jesse tossed a box form the desk to land next to Daniel.

He opened it and discovered nearly an entire ream of paper, all one typed-up document. "Is this a list of demands?"

"It's a list of one demand," Jesse said, smirking. "I'm willing to hand over the information I have now no matter what, as well as a friendly warning. What you and your own country's program does—and the potential consequences—would be up to you and your superiors."

"Is there and abridged version?" Daniel asked, setting the document aside. He was very sure he needed to keep all concentration on Jesse.

"A peace delegation headquarters, I have the money, you have the resources, the ancients were kind enough to leave a perfect—even movable site—for it."

"I think I'm confused," Daniel admitted. Since when did aliens who made ultimatums want to actually help.

"Atlantis is conveniently on Earth these days, which would make the transition easier than before," Jesse said, his tone hinting that he was struggling slightly to dumb things down for Daniel.

"As I have said, ever since I acquired Taiji, my…partner… business has been booming. I own several and acquired a few smaller ones during my success. I can fund this program and, while I do intend to use it for gain, you'll find my methods of trading with other planets rather benign."

"And you want SGC to do the work," Daniel said, finally catching up.

"I want SGC to be willing to do it," Jesse clarified. "My position would merely be oversight; I would never have approached you and yours if I did not trust you to be able to undertake this venture, yet I do not intend to give up everything if I will be funding it. Besides, if you can find a better replacement, all you need is to convince the representatives of the planetary nations my presence is detrimental."

"You're serious?" Daniel asked. He had yet to see any hint of some evil plan, serious threat, or stupid idea. There was not even any metaphorical mustache twirling, merely a smug sense of knowing how to get what he wanted and enjoying Daniel's bafflement that someone might bargain for something better for the both of them.

"Very," Jesse said, a sudden heaviness to this single word. "I am not about to risk this getting tied up in red tape, no matter how many people didn't mean for it to happen. Once I get a guarantee that at least two planetary nations will agree to this that Stargate Command will begin retrofitting the ancient city, I will give you my aid in finding your wraith."

"How do I know you're actually going to help?" Daniel asked. Why wouldn't people get to the catch sooner when it came to negotiations?

Jesse chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "How many times have you and your friends gotten your hands dirty? How man times have the ends justified your own questionable and hidden means? Have you lost count?"

Daniel was silent, and very uncomfortable. The last time someone asked questions like this may people had died.

Jesse's amusement brought him to full laughter this time. "That was not meant to be an attempt at confrontation," he said, still chuckling to himself as he did. "It was merely to say that not even the best of us are spotless." Jesse made a gentle, very casual, swooping hand gesture to indicate it was Daniel he referred to as 'the best' in that sentence. "Taiji arrived along with many Goa'uld transported here by members of what you know as The Trust. It had a different strategy of what to do on this planet, especially after learning about the Stargate Program. I was a perfect host, both my personality and I already worked as a secretary for an IOA member—South Korea to be exact, a… preferable government. Taiji spent years looking into this, as well as more… exemplary projects, organizations, and businesses to work with for a considerable profit. What Taiji also did, was talk to one of the less ambitious of the Goa'uld. All he had to do was keep an eye on a certain part of the black market, and he'd receive an anonymous donation to take care of living expenses. He told me your wraith was suddenly up for sale, an offer made that happened to be made before he was ever moved from Atlantis."

"Well, thanks for telling us. Better late than never I take it?" Daniel said. He wondered how this would get to being able to trust Jesse in holding up his end of the bargain. He wondered why all this explanation; Goa'uld who posed as Gods on earth for thousands of years didn't have this much back story.

"I intended to buy him," Jesse corrected, again putting a sudden heaviness to his words. "I have put a great deal of money towards multi-national project that the South Korean government has finished last month: a fully-functional, robot-operated, cloaked, beaming station. We have treaties with China, Russia, and are currently negotiating with Turkey to use it. Countries entered will be alerted, yet any action taken to block the frequencies will be considered hostile and all countries who wish to use it will be required to take action. You were meant to be told this just after I had used the station secure him. The station has better security than your area 51 and is much more comfortable for even him. His agreement to the peace delegation was meant to create international pressure for the proposal."

Daniel suddenly realized there might be a way he could have the upper hand in this conversation and jumped at the possibility, though while doing his best to be subtle, "So this is the only way to actually get this peace delegation to happen?"

Jesse smirked, indicating that Daniel had figured things out, yet hadn't quite hit the nail on the head. "You of all people should understand. What your country offers is dying alone through painful starvation alone in a plastic box in a facility that might as well have a revolving door. What mine offers is the protection of at least three countries willing to do whatever it takes to protect the station, mankind, and him at the drop of a hat, purely to keep him in a spacious room equipped with books, cable, and even windows for him to watch the stars; he can even be fed if he behaves while around others."

"I—wait, did you-?"

"Yes," Jesse said, returning to being smug. "At the moment, all I have is a theory and the means to test it—except for the actual wraith of course. My…correspondent was supposed to have contacted what he claimed were reliable scientists on Goa'uld technology, but he was recently found dead. I believe Stargate Command took over the investigation into his death."

"I take it you're not about to share this theory without more bargaining," Daniel said, hoping he hadn't clued into yet another major part of this strange plan.

"I've bought several things on this particular black market—were there anything too destructive being sold I would have actually alerted you—so I managed to convince the sellers to let me test my theory. I do not know who they are, where they are, or when they will let me take them up on their offer. If my proposal is accepted, we can discuss my ongoing help in this. If not, I do my best to do this on my own without interfering. Either way, I doubt you would be able to find someone willing to feed him even with a cure."

"I take it that you are," Daniel asked. This made things worse. Now SGC had to keep an entrepreneur alive at all costs just to keep an international incident form happening. If he couldn't keep him fed, there would be disputes as to what to do with him and both keeping him on the station and in are 51 would be hard would need skill to prevent a diplomatic disaster.

"Yes," Jesse said flatly. He leaned back and unlocked a drawer of the desk. He took out a sealed envelope, from its shape Daniel could tell it was lined with bubble wrap on the inside and from the size carried a CD or DVD. Jesse started to toss it to Daniel, but his wrist twirled back the way it went, his arm pulled back, and his long fingers tightening over the package.

Jesse's eyes flashed bright and his arm went limp. "Do you remember your wife's son?" The words were spoken in Taiji's deep, booming voice, yet there was no sense of Jesse's smugness or inner smirk. Taiji spoke of somber reminiscing, regret and sorrow that hinted it was on the edge of desperation that could push everything into greater chaos if it felt that might silence the memories.

"You mean Shifu?" Daniel asked, startled at the sudden change. Jesse, it turned out had the attitude of a feline cat and could outdo some Goa'uld. Whatever exactly Taiji was, it hadn't been wandering the globe plotting and scheming to find the best way the lounge in untouchable luxury; it had been running. Daniel wondered, while they had to trust Jesse, did he care one bit for Taiji? The two weren't the same thing by a long shot. Apophis had claimed to love Amaunet, but no matter the devotion, Daniel would have ripped the symbiote from the human's neck and stamped it into a pile of sludge under his boot if he had the chance.

"Jesse is willing to risk his life to aid you. These are his principles and his decision. I won't stop him and in fact I admire them. He is also the godfather of a girl who has just entered college; I share the same memories of watching her grow up. I have spent centuries, one way or another, running and hiding from Goa'uld. Now that I finally have a chance to live without fear of them, there is still a risk that someone will take away any hope of being part of her family.

"I proposed the peace delegation as a concept, and Jesse helped with many of the details. Te greatest hurdle, beyond the proposal being accepted, is a law that officially gives those native to other planets the same rights a human would have under its jurisdiction. The offer of peace will be hollow without it."

Taiji tossed the package to Daniel and it landed squarely in his lap. "I chose you because from the reports you've always known who best to shoot immediately and who to help...as well as the questions to figure it out. Whichever you think would be best for him, don't watch it alone."


	3. Chapter 3

Watching the DVD with others didn't make things more comforting.

There was no sound to it, but six sets of subtitles: English, Chinese, Spanish, Russian, Arabic, and Korean. It was a lot of work for something shot on a cheap handheld camera. Whoever had taken Todd either liked to work on a budget or was adamantly against being flashy and extravagant.

The interior of a moving van was lit up poorly, from the looks of it by a standing lamp, similar to the ones Dr. Goldstein's team had used. The camera was zoomed in on Todd, sitting on the floor with his hands tied to a low crosspiece used to fasten furniture, a faint glint from the poor lighting showing he was held there with barbed wire.

It was immediately obvious that it wasn't the loops of wire digging into his skin that were keeping him where he was—those were just a reminder. Though weak, Todd could still survive and repair more damage to his body than a normal human's, which now made things worse for the wraith. His captors had been far less carful than they would have with normal hostage, no matter how violent. His coveralls, however, showed every bit of what had been inflicted on the wearer; there were bullet holes in the legs, large burns on the arms and collar, and long rips that had soaked up large quantities of blood. His hair had picked up it's own streaks of blood, as well as what was at first thought to be glitter, but upon further notice were tiny glass shards.

Topping off the impression that this had been done by amateurs with too much time and luck was the duct tape across Todd's mouth. Simple, cheap, almost obligatory in such a situation, the tape hinted at something else, that this wasn't, in fact, simply people with the ability to surprise and kill trained soldiers. Just as someone's gloved hand moved into view, the realization dawned on the watchers that there was no need for the tape as Todd had no one to call out to. The tape was for this and this alone, something worthy of recording, something that would make the poor lighting and camera meaningless in it's wake and purpose.

'Quite the oddity,' the subtitles narrated as the gloved hands grabbed Todd's long hair and pulled it back.

Todd wasn't paying attention to the hand, but to something off screen… something that suddenly made the light change. Todd tried to pull back, the barbed wire cutting into his skin, from the obvious source of a bright orange glow.

The subtitles ignored the flame, a billowing orange tongue that lapped hungrily at the healing green skin, 'A born killer with definite spirit. One needs little more than a car battery for him to follow directions.'

Todd gave up struggling as the flames outmatched his ability to heal, boiling through the membrane of his golden eye and fusing the consequent ooze to skin seared to a sickening black.

'With a little creativity, you can have him expounding upon the vast information he has: nanite technology, advanced space flight, hacking coding, and even devices with the ability to teleport one across the galaxy, and other secrets of the American Air Force.' was all the subtitles found worthy to say.

The flame was cut off, its existence suddenly gone, leaving the place darker, more sullen, even starker than before. The gloved hand threw Todd's hair disgustedly at his, the messy white locks falling over the destroyed half of his face. Todd hung his head and winced, not noticing that in his pain, his wrists were bleeding from the barbed wire, sinking so deep it had almost disappeared.

'After just that, he spoke for twenty minutes without end. The best part is: There is always a way to start over if you still need more from him. That, however, is where we talk money.'

The screen of the laptop went blank, nothing but ominous and foreboding black.

There were only two men watching; one had crashed and shot his way through an infamously brutal war, the other with ageless skill at calm and dignity, neither felt well after watching the video.

"He really does have trouble making friends," John said, crossing his arms.

Woolsey was not impressed. He didn't feel words were needed to express how unimpressed he was. He let the silence do the talking.

"Well, on the bright side…" John started.

Woolsey raised an eyebrow after John's pause went on for too long.

"Yeah, I got nothing," John said. It was obvious whoever had Todd had done their homework, they just didn't want to show what they'd studied up on and how. As much as he wanted to, as easy as it would be for him, he couldn't say they'd cheated; Todd had no hand in this mess. It was easy to want to punch an alien, they were by definition not human and they weren't animals. Only they'd mind and some how knowing that they would mind would make the world work a bit better after you punched them. There were no aliens to punch, in fact, all they had was an alien to show them who he could punch. "So… this Jesse guy knows where Todd is?"

"He will know," Woolsey said. "He said he hasn't been contacted yet and so far has been willing to tell us everything."

"I'm guessing Jesse's still really annoying when it comes to getting help," John said. Aliens: Can't live with them… and space would be pretty boring without them.

"He's asking for a lot, technically," Woolsey admitted.

"Oh, I love 'technically'" John said sardonically. "Isn't this technically a matter of National Security? Doesn't that mean we can just sic Ronon on him?"

"Not unless you want to start an international incident," Woolsey said.

Now it was John's turn to be silent.

"John…" Woolsey said, his tone the same as trying to coax matches from a young child who knew exactly how destructive they could be.

"What?" John asked innocently. "All we have to explain is how bad it would be if someone else got their hands on a wraith."

"We're already facing an international squabble over where to put him when we get him back," Woolsey said. "We're close to one over why we don't have him already."

"What's the IOA say?" John asked. When he had to ask them for the best idea, he knew his luck was in the toilet.

"They've been doing nothing but fighting since they found out he was lost. Don't expect an answer any time soon," Woolsey said. It was obvious he was both glad he'd left before this happened, but also wondering if his presence could have stopped it. Most of it was squabbles over position and who had the power to do what.

John made a disgusted noise and put his face in his hand. Someone had flushed the proverbial toilet. "Fine. What does Jesse want?"

"He wants the Stargate Program to run the operations of a peace delegation while he funds it," Woolsey said. "His proposal has Atlantis would have Atlantis as the headquarters."

John was silent for a while. "Was there some sort of evil part to this plan that you forgot to tell me?"

"Other than giving us a lot of work to do around here just to prepare for all that?" Woolsey asked.

"That's it?" John asked. "The worst part of this is remodeling?"

"Unless you miss solving our problems by shooting people that much," Woolsey said.

"As long as he doesn't' take away golf," John said. "We're not going to remodel the brig are we?"

"It wouldn't matter. Jesse is going to move Todd to a beaming station in orbit. Unless he decides to help, he'll be a matter for the South Koreans."

"Wait, help?" John asked. "He just had his face fried off. He's not going to be able to help if he wanted to, and he won't." Something about this statement bothered him. Todd couldn't go with someone else. Todd was HIS wraith… not that he liked to clean up the messed Todd brought about, but he felt no one else should be taking charge of keeping an eye on him. It was personal and John didn't know why. Most of him wanted Todd to be far, far away from him and his friends, yet there was a persistent part that bugged him constantly that said Todd shouldn't casually be sent away where John couldn't get to him. He had no idea where this part of him came from.

"Jesse says he has a way to cure the side-effects of being fed on by a wraith. That's why he has an opportunity to meet with whoever has him."

"What if we don't give this guy what he wants?" John asked.

"He tries to find Todd on his own and leaves us to figure things out on our own," Woolsey said.

"In other words, we either figure out how to pull a wraith out of a hat or give him what he wants."

"First we need a hat," Woolsey said. "Once this project is started, there's no turning back on it. As soon as we can show Jesse the paperwork that it's started, he'll talk to us."

"Somehow I don't think it's just going to be that simple," John said.

"Undoubtedly," Woolsey concurred. "We're going to need to be prepared."

"For what?" John asked. Great, more work they had to do. For being helpful, Jesse wasn't doing anything.

"I'm not sure," Woolsey admitted. "But you know Todd better than anyone else, so you'd know best how capture an angry, confused wraith without any casualties."

"Yeah, that'd be my specialty," John said. He missed when people who stole things were stupid.

….

Wraith don't cry. They do not weep. They do not whimper.

All they know to do is to scream in the wake of pain, scream until they surrender. They never ask 'Why?', as they are beyond expecting an answer by the time they will believe you. All the ever ask for is their identity; they are wraith, never truly conquerable as they will always have something to cling to as they watch other break everything else of theirs to irreparable pieces.

Todd would never ask him, 'Why?' Something… something had inevitably happened, something between them had broken, snapped in half during their last conversation that John knew had made Todd give up on asking that question as futile. He'd thrown something away, something John never wanted him to. This was no misstep in the evolution of the mind, no being driven forward by hatred and fear, but a turnabout a looping-around back to something, something that sent a sickening wave of fear through John's bones, though he had no idea why. Todd's mind had gone somewhere it had been before, somewhere too dark on a map John though he had memorized and wandered into somewhere forbidden, not out of his own acts, but by John's own decree.

He was supposed to find Todd. He was supposed to know how that far-too-human and not-human-enough mind worked. He was supposed to know him perfectly, what he'd do, how his tricks worked, where he'd go, what he'd say, and most importantly how to find him before he did all those things. He thought he knew those things, always knowing Todd was going to crash and burn and turn to Atlantis after sifting through the ashes. Now… now all his intuition would tell him was that Todd was going to curl up in the ashes until something new came by, even a chance to catch hold of one of the flames and truly burn alive.

All John had was one important piece of unhelpful information: Todd was not going back. All he knew that that no matter what, Todd was that if Todd sense the opportunity to escape, the tiniest whiff of freedom, he'd take it and die in it. He was not going back to the van and he was not going to Area 51. This time he'd set the world on fire if he had to just to stay away from certain parts of it.

He so desperately wanted to know what to extend in order to convince Todd not to fight him. There were no words, no bribes, no threats he could think of. The future held only the looming visage of the ruined half of his face with the now cold eye streaked down the sharp cheek blind to him while the other half, forever alien, forever weak and held together purely by determination and seeing nothing but fire.

There was a knock from somewhere and John realized he was sitting in his room, the lights dimmed, and holding his head. "Come in" he said, doing his best to be… himself. He always pushed things aside or grabbed them and punched them until they gave up; ad-libbing his way through everything and always ready to ad-lib something new the second something unexpected happened. He needed to talk to someone now. He had no ad-libs, not even a joke. Worst of all, the burned apparition waited just beyond his next thought to haunt him until he himself understood what it was like to lose everything but the last, tiniest shred of your soul.

The doors opened, revealing Teyla. She waited for a second out of politeness before entering. "What are you doing?"

"I dunno," he answered. "It wasn't really this dark when I got here. What time is it?" He waved his hand, brightening up the room. It had been too dark to see his watch.

"Around eleven," Teyla said. "I began to worry when the mess hall closed and I hadn't seen you for dinner."

"It wouldn't hurt me to lose a few pounds."

"I heard about Todd," Teyla said bluntly. It was always a shock, at least a small one, to those outside of her clan, how unmoving she could be, especially when she always started out so soft and gentle. She wasn't going to let him joke his way out of this, nor would she just dismiss it as a headache from stress.

"How much have you heard?" John asked.

"Enough to be worried about you," Teyla said. She wasn't going to let him dance around this.

"I'm just having a tough time not being able to play golf, okay?" John feigned, though admittedly being told he couldn't hit gold balls into the bay due to pollution laws did aggravate him.

"I know you better than that, John," she said.

"Well, if you know what's going on, I'd like to hear it," John said. He helped other people. He didn't have problems like this. He didn't sit in the dark or beat himself up because of parts of his own brain; he helped people fight that sort of thing… until now. He was always there to fight alongside his friends against inner demons but up against his own, he couldn't even see them, let alone swing a punch.

"The last time you stayed in your room without eating or talking you refused to let Ronon kill Todd and left him on an uninhabited planet. He wasn't what—"

"Kolya," John interrupted. A sickeningly cold churning in his stomach told him she was right. Kolya had filmed his torture, not directly as revenge or torture, ultimately just to buy something petty that he wanted. John had returned to earth just to rewatch the same act, not of sadism, but of finding the pain of others so insignificant that it was the narration of the piece that needed the most attention. Kolya has stopped being human a long time ago and became some sort of symbol, some sort of force, something that coalesced in the darkness and chased you with shadows. That was what he as fighting and Todd had given up the fight against. Somehow, knowing they were fighting the same one made him feel so much better, so much stronger.

"I… I have no idea what to say, though," John admitted, shrugging

"You don't always need to," Teyla said, smiling. She could sense he'd had some sort of breakthrough, and at the moment, that seemed to be all he needed. "But I'm still here if you need anything."

"So…uh, you wanna go watch football or something?" John asked. People. He needed people, human people and of all he human people he knew, Teyla was the best at driving away fears about wraith. She might even help him think of something useful. Even if she didn't, she'd be a good start on getting back to ad-libbing his way to success.

"I'd love to," Teyla said, leading him out of the room. "You'll find Todd before he hurts someone, I know you will."

Suddenly all his newfound clarity was gone. Something fired in his brain to tell Teyla, but he managed to stop himself. As intuitive and caring as she was, his gut told him this wasn't for her. There was a reason he kept seeing Todd's ruined face, but he didn't' know it yet. All he knew was that they were both running from some force they recognized as Kolya. It was pain for the sake of cheap bargaining, knowing it was cruelty and not believing in the slightest this occasion would count as even the barest of sins. It was that, but something in his head told him there was something wrong with the equation.

Just as he thought that, the voice in his head he always listened to spoke up. It was simpler to follow Teyla. She made sense. There was no need to complicate things one his own. There was nothing deeper or more complicated or another piece to his mental puzzle.

For the first time in his life, John decided to ignore this voice. This time, simplest wasn't going to be best, easiest wasn't easiest. He was going to learn what he'd been hiding from himself for once.

Because Todd was never going to ask why this had happened. Because wraith don't cry.

….

The first batch of coffee made on Atlantis is always thrown out after the first cup. It's made by people who were too tired to make it properly on the first go, replaced with something proper after the foul the first of the kitchen staff had imbibed their foul concoction, whose energy and taste would remain with them for most of the day.

Dr. Keller never minded the taste or any other properties anyone else unfortunate to start work so early in the morning fond unpleasant with the first batch of coffee. She was always there, right on time before the first batch was thrown out and replaced.

"Finally!" she heard as she was leaving the mess hall. John walked up to her, forcing her to check the contents of her thermos.

It was indeed coffee, too strong, very bitter, and badly filtered. This didn't bode well. "You're not usually up this early," she said, making her confusion as obvious as possible in hopes he'd address it.

"An all-nighter isn't going to hurt me," John said, not acquiescing. "Besides, whoever we're after had been doing their homework, so I thought I'd better get started myself."

"You need help with research?" she asked as she started walking again. She hadn't noticed she had stopped when John showed up.

"More like cheating," John said, following her. "SGC sorta found someone who knows where Todd is… well, will know soon. I want you in the group when we talk to them."

Dr. Keller hadn't heard any of the recent news regarding Jesse or the DVD. All she knew was that Woolsey had taken Teyla, Woolsey, and John to the mainland and they'd returned empty-handed. Needing her to talk to someone who could find Todd only meant one conclusion to her: "How badly hurt is he?"

"Sort of…" John said, slightly uncomfortable suddenly. "I'd rather you didn't try to help him, though."

"John, I know the gene therapy didn't work, but if there's anything—"

"He's not going to need a doctor," John said, suddenly realizing the need to clarify. "Not as soon as he's going to need someone he'll recognize as on his side, or at least not about to kill him. I know I'm always talking to him, but I think he likes you a lot better."

Despite her genuine worry, she smiled at the compliment. She knew the bigger purpose of all this. Compassion wasn't a weakness. Here was a perfect opportunity to show one wraith, maybe more if he ever returned to his own galaxy. "He is hurt though, isn't he?"

"Yeah," John said, still hoping that if he never answered, she'd never try to figure out the full answer.

"How bad is it?" she asked, her smile fading slightly.

"He—There's nothing you can do, I'm pretty sure. Even if you did figure out a perfect way to fix a really, really bad burn, I don't want you to try. I want you ready to talk about how we're going to get him with the least amount of damage to everything. You can do doctor stuff after that. I promise."

"I understand," Dr. Keller said, her smile returning. This was something Todd had needed for a long time, and he definitely needed it now. Whatever had happened, she could tell he was in trouble, and not by much, if any, of his own doing. She had no idea about the details and doubted she wanted to, but she had seen dozens of people so lost and afraid of the strange world they'd found themselves in and unable to escape soon enough that she couldn't help physically. It had been her aid in helping them put other parts back together, part only they could find. "I think he'd understand this time."

"Understand what?" John asked. Maybe he needed sleep more than he thought.

"I'll tell you later," Dr. Keller said. It was best if Todd told him; or at least that she gave Todd a chance. She had thought Todd as told John, but obviously he didn't think there was a need. Shortly after she had compared herself and John, saying they both saved lives and the difference was the tools the used Todd had lost his entire crew. As dangerous as they were to humans, Dr. Keller know that even though the wraith wouldn't admit it, it hurt to know he had been kept from saving those he knew, especially when someone whom he had been told saved lives for a living was responsible for stopping him. There had been no need to tell John, let alone believe her.

"Well, in the meantime, can you tell Rodney I want him in on this too?" John asked. "He can at least talk to Todd and stall things until someone else catches up."

"Sure," Dr, Keller said.

John stopped following her and she proceeded happily down the hallway. He wondered what she had meant. He wondered why she seemed to understand the importance of someone Todd trusted being there to find him, no matter what the plan was in actually getting to him. He wondered that bothered her.

All he knew was that as much as he needed to get to sleep, it wouldn't answer his questions.


	4. Chapter 4

"This is quite the entourage," Jesse said after opening the hotel room door. He backed up and gestured for the group to enter the room.

"You're Jesse?" John asked in confusion. He could spot breasts hidden behind a lead wall, yet everyone had been referring to this person as 'he'. Last he checked 'he's didn't have curves like the ones he could spot form a mile away—so long as the person he was looking at had two X chromosomes.

"John, leave it alone or you're going to hurt yourself," Rodney said as Woolsey rolled his eyes.

"But—" John started to protest.

"You're not my type," Jesse said, closing the door.

"I wasn't trying to hit on you," John said defensively.

"Even if you were, this proves even the best result of your efforts will result disastrously," Jesse said leaning against a wall of the hallway as the others spread out in the main room.

"Oh ye of little faith," Woolsey said, handing a thick envelope to Jesse, who glanced at it and tossed it on his desk. One sentence into the actual conversation and it had been decided that they were all screwed.

"I haven't received anything from whoever has Todd," Jesse said. "If they have kept hidden this long, they can't have been stupid enough to find someone off the street to feed him and there is no way possible that they could have found a new volunteer they can feel they can trust. They are likely pressed for time to make a new video and hand him over to someone else. This means they are likely to use the even this weekend to prevent anyone from interfering with their plans."

"What happens this weekend?" John asked, earning the same reactions from Rodney and Woolsey as any time they had to explain something embarrassing to someone who didn't know about earth.

This just made everyone else whom John spoke for even more confused.

Jesse laughed and crossed her arms.

It reminded John too much of exactly what had gone missing in the first place. Gallows humor; a smug sense of having enough tricks up his sleeve to keep everything to his advantage; yet, when it came down to it, he needed SGC to clean up a mess when something didn't go according to his plans.

"This city is famous for taking nearly everything imaginable in the name of sexual freedom and revels in it. That is how it is on a normal day. This weekend the streets will be packed with… odd people, all celebrating diversity that holds a political stigma in this country."

"I don't get it," Ronon said, summing up how most everyone felt.

"Everyone around looks insane and it's the worst day to accidentally shoot a civilian," Rodney said.

"That is one way to put it," Jesse agreed. "Even if you kept it secret that you were from any part of the military, you could be facing years of disastrous consequences."

"Got any good news?" John asked. "Maybe how we're supposed to find him?"

"If they know about me, they know about my umbrella corporation," Jesse said.

"The same one that will fund a new mission for Atlantis?" Dr. Keller asked.

"I promise no zombies," Jesse joked. "Though perhaps a wraith might not be too far off in definition.

"In any case, beaming is out of the question. They'd know I funded the station and they'd have taken precautions. This leaves us with our own culture's technology to rely on. Cellphones these days each come with their own GPs tracking device. You can track me as far as you can; I doubt they'd block it. The need their own cellphones and even if someone were tracking me, they still have the advantage of hostages, not to mention they'd be ready to take out civilians."

"That's not good news," John said.

"Then perhaps you could augment that," Jesse said, far too nonchalantly than he liked.

"How?" John asked.

"How do you expect to handle the situation without casualties?" Jesse asked, showing exactly why he was so smug: No one else had an answer, even a bad one.

Ronon shrugged. Casualties were what he did best. "Why do we need him alive?"

"Firstly, I have plans for him," Jesse said. "Second, I would likely be shot first if the began executing people. Third, I believe your superiors want to know what he told them. Fourth, he might have heard names of their superiors and he'd be more willing to tell us that dead enemies would be. Fifth, you've successfully avoided international problems so far; I doubt you want to tarnish that record."

"What about the ethics?" Dr. Keller asked. "We can't just shoot him, this isn't his fault."

"If you wish to show other planets you truly have the moral high ground, this would certainly be a good time to start," Jesse said, his amiability suddenly gone and his words biting. "However, I thought you considered those optional, or do you no longer assume that he'd eat everyone instead of signing a peace treaty?"

"We needed the information he had!" Teyla said. "That man volunteered so he could save lives."

"Ladies, please!" John said, only to make things worse.

Jesse stood up from the wall and growled, his arms crossed this time in anger and not in casual poise.

"At the risk of making things worse, she hasn't," Woolsey spoke up. "Given the sensitive nature of the materials on it, I only showed it to John and I restricted viewing to those he gave permission to. Teyla never asked to see it, but she did volunteer for this mission."

"You of all people, then, should be aware that both the American and the international stargate programs are notorious for breaches of what most of the world has ratified as simple ethics. Taiji has been tortured by the Tok'ra and hunted by the Goa'uld, yet he chose me as a host because as much as this meeting rests on our running Atlantis under my funding, I will not give you a penny—let alone any more help in saving the wraith—if you abandon the reason you were chosen as the fifth race."

"I understand completely," Woolsey said.

"I don't," Rodney admitted.

John shrugged, not understanding either.

"It means no more breaking the rules," Woolsey said.

"Aw, gee, that's what we do best," Rodney said sarcastically.

"The point is we still have the loopholes they provide," Woolsey said. He saw no real problem with it. He knew how to use rules and words and perspective to his advantage. He could use rules to prove why he could break other rules. If he had the time, he could make people question gravity with nothing but a long list of legalese.

"What about a distraction?" Dr. Keller spoke up.

"I thought we just had one," Rodney said.

"If you can distract them long enough for Todd to get out of the van, we can find him before he hurts anyone—including himself," Dr. Keller explained.

"I'd oblige, but I believe I might be a bit… incapacitated at the time. What kind of distraction would you need?"

"Well, first it'd need to keep the door open," Dr. Keller said, stalling in hopes she didn't look like an idiot when that was as far as she'd thought on the plan. "And second it should be something innocuous or hidden."

"Then we just need to keep the guards from shooting anyone and then figure out what this impossible item is," Rodney said.

"I can keep the door open," Jesse said. "If he's as smart as your mission reports say, I can make sure he can fight his way out if he's quick."

"With what?" Ronon asked.

Jesse pulled out a thin mechanical pencil out of her breast pocket, twirled it for him to see, and then put it away.

Ronon smiled. "Yeah, I saw that movie."

"Why don't we just set something on fire and call it a day then?" Rodney asked.

"Would that distract them long enough?" Jesse asked. He was serious.

"Just so you know, this is why Ronon isn't allowed to play _Dungeons and Dragons_ anymore," Rodney said.

"No, he injured someone with the dice," Dr. Keller said. "John had his character set everything on fire."

"I think an explosion would distract them a bit better," Ronon said, feeling no guilt about the mentioned game.

""Isn't there a better plan that reckless property damage?" Woolsey asked.

Everyone silently stared at him, waiting for him to voice his own bright idea.

"Never mind then," he said.

"The explosive would have to be mild," Jesse said. "Your beloved C4 would pack far too great of a punch."

"How mild?" Ronon asked.

"We'd still need to delay the explosion after you're in the van," Teyla said.

"I'd prefer if you didn't destroy it, either," Jesse said. "Though the more pressing question is how one would set it off without the locals noticing."

"So you want them invisible?" Rodney asked.

"Most would be invisible in late June," Dr. Keller said in a missed attempt to remind her boyfriend. She sighed, noticing the silence in the room. "Fireworks can be pretty distracting."

"I know someone who makes them," Jesse said. "If I have the specifics you want, she can make one for you."

"What kind of specifics?" Rodney asked skeptically. "It can't be that hard—"

"No," Dr. Keller said adamantly.

"I think everyone would prefer if you left this up to someone else," Woolsey said.

"This is ridiculous," John complained.

"You lost a green alien at two in the morning and you're asking someone with a slug wrapped around their brainstem for help to get him back on a holiday known for people dressing like rainbow-covered clowns," Jesse said.

"They do what?" Ronon asked?

"Why?" Teyla asked.

"Right," John said, ignoring the others. All their serious plans hadn't worked. Some days you had to put all your faith into the rubber chicken with a pulley in the middle. Curtailing the stupid curing the conversation was a lost cause. "So, where—"

"I can get you one if you like," Jesse said.

"Somehow I'm not surprised," Woolsey said. He had everything but something simple.

"I can get you fireworks and I can give you pencils. If you wait, I can get you a document form South Korea. If you want more, you'd be asking for my lipstick," Jesse said. He could play a game of plans with amazing skill.

The problem was these strange, ever-annoying people had unpredictability o their side, as well as being able to recognize the best time to use it against someone. They were cheap, efficient, uncaring, and laughing all the way. Thinking about it gave John a similar sick feeling. No galaxy was without its notorious utter bastard, it seemed.

"Then what happens?" Jesse asked.

"Then we can finally get out the guns," Ronon said. "We can hit them then, right?"

"I'd prefer if you did your best to avoid me, but the problem is mainly him and civilians," Jesse said, nodding at him.

"They should have the problem of the latter solved for us," Woolsey said. "As much as they make good shields, I doubt anyone smart enough to keep from being caught so far would let potential witnesses walk around. I don't doubt they'd be using the event as a distraction in the first place."

"Very likely," Jesse agreed. "Do you have a plan beyond 'run in and shoot them?'?"

"'Don't get killed?'" Dr. Keller suggested, only half jokingly.

"But you have one?" Jesse asked.

"Run in, grab Todd, don't get shot?'" John suggested, joking even less.

"As long as you have one," Jesse said, shrugging. "I can tell him to get out and get away. I can give you what I can. The rest is the reason I wanted your help."

"So what's your plan if this doesn't work?" John asked.

"'Don't be taken hostage'," Jesse said. "What's yours?"

"Uh, 'Don't make things worse'?" John said. It wasn't going to work in the slightest, he knew it. That meant they really, really had to depend on the first plan.

…..

It didn't work.

It really, really didn't work.

John was wondering if maybe he'd completely misunderstood Todd. Perhaps it wasn't Todd for whom things when sideways, but him and Todd merely happened to be present and hide things when the worst events happened. Perhaps disaster just followed Todd the way a moon follows a planet as it orbits something larger it can't escape. Perhaps there was simply some logic to Todd John never understood and failed to realize was important.

It could have worked. It should have worked. They did everything right. It wasn't his fault; it was… if only they'd been up against someone dumb.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't…. it wasn't fair.

That was all he needed right now. Things were supposed to be fair. He didn't know what that was exactly, but suddenly a wave of clarity washed over him. Suddenly everything was quiet, everything was calm, despite his surroundings. He'd grabbed the reigns of some great beast and instead of feeling closer to the turmoil and tumult, he felt nothing but a sense of achievement. He had a direction, a reason. He only knew that he was lost in retrospect, only in comparison to this feeling of having something so much better, so much greater, a way to end his own craziness.

It was still there, but now he knew there was a cure once he figured it out. The fact that it existed put his mind at ease, and that, to him, was the greatest step towards his goal he could take.

Of course, he couldn't admit that. Especially not now.

Everything had gone well until Todd was out. Try as they might, no one could pin the problems on the wraith this time. His kidnappers had brought their own friends with their own plan. They had counted on the civilians, not as shields but expendables, a distraction of their own. They'd played John and his friends like a game of cards. They had let SGC know about their cheap brute force. They had even fooled Jesse, one who prided himself on being able to play the cards of life. It was a dirty, mean, tactic and it worked. If one hadn't filled their minds with hate for them, there'd be room for admiration.

John though he could win by surprising them. They ought they could win by surprising him. Todd though had won by surprising them both.

The fireworks had almost worked. People cleared the area, fearing amateurs were setting off a display early in the day. It had certainly distracted those trying to hold onto Todd, as it almost gave John and the others time to move in. They had surrounded a parking lot and likely they were what had broken the spell of the distraction. He hadn't asked the others but he could hear the sounds of Todd crashing out of the van and panicking in confusion just before he heard shots and breaking glass. That was when Dr, Keller started screaming over the radio, warning him of mustard gas.

She had bee right about it, but the mustard gas hadn't been aimed at them. It was supposed to keep Todd from running off by surrounding him.

Even running from the large yellow cloud, John could hear Todd running through the smoke, crashing into something blindly. All John could do was run the other way.

….

"John, where are you?" Teyla yelled over his radio.

"Uh… wherever Castro and Fourteenth is," he answered.

He'd run all this way stopping when he was out of breath and out of clues. He had taken off after Todd, circling around the gas clouds and following the occasional sound of crashing. He'd lost the trail almost an hour ago, running after a vague footprint next to a piece of blood-covered barbed wire he'd found. He remembered firing at something growling and making noise in some nearby trashcans only to realize he'd followed a raccoon at some point.

"How's Jesse?" he asked.

"Whatever he did, it worked," Teyla said. "He's badly burned though. He's got some sort of device."

"Yeah, I heard about those." John said, scowling at the fact that a nearby building said 'Occupational Health.' The universe was doing its best to mock him. "Doesn't he know how to use it?"

"He's fixing up the others first," she said. "Do you have any good news?"

"I don't have any worse news," John said. "Except I'm lost."

"I'll ask Jesse how to find you when she-he's done," she said.

"Thanks. I'll wait here."

He wondered how dangerous San Francisco could be. He guessed 'very'. He had never explained anything about earth short of 'Don't Touch' to Todd; at best he'd seen the inside of one of Rodney's comic books or a picture from a Calendar. John barely understood this crazy place, how could he expect Todd to survive here without causing catastrophic damage?

A city of millions of people and he was worried about the man-eating monster. He didn't know why he thought he should.

Because life wasn't fair, that was why. It should be, that was why.


	5. Chapter 5

"Officials are still working to clean up what is know as the Pride Attack—an explosion of high-grade mustard gas in a neighborhood parking lot that happened on the first day of SF Pride, a parade celebrating freedom of sexuality and expression. Some call it over-the-top vandalism while others are going as far as to label it terrorism. Police are still on the hunt for those responsible, even as the almost-week-long clean up nears an end," the newscaster on the television said.

"While no casualties were reported and the number of hospitalizations was surprisingly low, the attack has had unfortunate consequences. Violence towards companies and individuals suspected of homophobia has skyrocketed, especially in the Castro area—a district in San Francisco famous for its pro-gay sites and people. The violence has yet to have any affect on the tourism, though many residents are saying they no longer feel safe to leave their homes, both due to vigilantism and fear of another anti-gay attack.

"Businesses are finding new strategies to bring customers back in the wake of these new unsettling sentiments. Rainbow flags and other symbols associated with gay rights have flooded department store windows, while the number of security guards has increased 11-50 percent in major shopping malls."

John made a sound of disgust and Ronon changed the channel out of politeness.

"—and I think this is just the American people saying they won't stand for this anymore. This is America standing up for itself finally and telling these people—with their Anti-American floats, with their anti-marriage propaganda, their rainbow parties, and a whole bunch of other things I don't even want to know and I don't want to say in case kids are watching—'Get the hell out. We don't want you here. You brought 9/11 on us and we're not going to let you try it again, let alone celebrate—"

"Is this guy crazy?" Ronon asked.

"Yes, that's why he's on TV," John answered. "Change the channel."

"Teenage Mutant—"

"No!" John protested. "I really can't catch anything green right now."

"It's a good show," Ronon said, changing the channel.

"I don't care!" John said. He'd been grumpy all week. It had started drizzling just after he'd spoken to Teyla on the radio after he'd lost Todd. That was five days ago and his mood had gotten stuck in the mud.

Woolsey had spent several hours negotiating with the police to get access to recent cases and he and Teyla were still sorting through them, looking for non-existent clues. It was an experience that could kick a human heart into a whimpering ball of sad ennui. For the last five years, John had bee out is space, seeing and touching the far reaches of the universe, away from earth. He'd been protecting this planet for years with war, while his only times to actually return to the planet were full of death. Yet he still had a soft spot for his home planet. He loved it. He cherished it. He still did, even as he met with hatred by those who kept people safe because they had no idea what he did and while he sifted through papers, each one something morbidly unique to his planet.

A planet he's saved every singled citizen of had greeted him with robbery, assault, sadism, and had attempted murder. Now it was reminding him that this happened every day, along with a long list of other human atrocities he had no right or jurisdiction to resolve. The worst part was there was nothing human about the incidents. They had been reduced to text on paper, nothing but file after file, nothing individual save for the arrangement of letters to them. There were cold, still, hollow.

The worst part was that this hurt the aliens worse, and he couldn't deny what his planet did. Not anymore. Ronon thought Earth was some sort of untouched safe haven: no wars, barely a trace of crime, everything simple and easier than he'd planets he'd been to. Now humans had just replaced the wraith, often with worse crimes that no one wanted to fix and just hoped would go away by wishing. Everything was on fire, everyone did something wrong and got away with it, everyone was having sex with someone they weren't supposed to, and everyone was killing someone, yet no one seemed to be dead. Earth was dull in its cruelty.

It was worse for Teyla. To her, Earth was a paradise. Nothing could compare to a place teeming with people who could grow old, free from the wraith. Earth as practically sacred to her, and yet, finally touching the great planet that had given her so much hope, had left her dirty, lost, and confused. Humans abused everything they touched, taking for granted property, children, lovers, even their own lives. Some even enjoyed what they did. What was worse was that this wasn't new. Earth never had an era of great peace spanning its surface. Never had these atrocities disappeared, only lessened on occasion and she felt she'd collected the blood of the victims on her hands for her near-worship of the place.

"Well, that's the last of my half," John said, tossing the last file in a sloppy pile. "Somehow I thought this would be easier."

"Did you think he'd set something on fire so we'd know where he was?" Teyla asked.

"I thought he'd do something a bit more subtle than that," John said.

"So this one wouldn't be something he did, then," Teyla said, tossing the last of her own pile away.

"How come he was always easier to find when he could be anywhere in the galaxy?" John asked, leaning against a bed.

"He kept bugging us," Ronon said.

"Oh, right," John said, scooping up a much smaller pile. It was cases that might have something to do with Todd. Then again, they could be raccoons or stupid teenagers. "I'll take these to Rodney."

"I miss that about him," Ronon said. "Just that part."

…..

Todd had no idea where he was. He had no idea where he'd been.

He had expected organization with an unashamed flaunting of grandeur to the native planet of the Tau'ri. Instead, he found a loud, disorganized, haphazard, obsessed, conflicting mess. Monuments right next to each other displayed designs incongruous to each others. Shipped belched sickening smoke and most of their pilots couldn't navigate in a straight line if their lives depended on it. Roads were full of trash and people were eating out of where the trash should have been. If it wasn't broken, it was covered in lights; if it was broken it was covered with something uglier. Everything made noise. People made noise, people had devices that made noise, they had animals that made noise, monuments made noise, ships made noise, things on the roads made noise, even the smoke made noise.

The only things that didn't make noise were the trees: decorative shrubs on spindly sticks crammed wherever the noise and trash and smoke weren't so the humans could pretend none of that existed.

He preferred the dark; there were fewer ships on the ground speeding past, no one thought he was in the way, and he had less reason to hide in the dark. No one here had seen a wraith, let alone come near some sort of battle. They were more interested in their own selfish activities than in anything about him. Constantly using the night to travel seemed like punishment, though, as it always reminded him of why he hated wherever he was. The stars were faint and often the sky was a blank brown, at best close the purple, but too shy to actually make it.

He felt safer, and preferred the look of the sky, in some of the more secluded areas, though they weren't without their garish monstrosities. Giant steel statues of grotesque creatures stretched up towards the sky, as if they were standing guard or put there to warn other cultures of this one's ugliness.

Still, as much as he'd seen, 'Near the ugly thing and not the other ugly thing' was nowhere close to having a sort of bearings, geographical or directional. He was sure that whoever had designed this place…or these places…hated anyone who had to be in them. Roads stopped because a building happened to be in its meandering way, they curved awkwardly and turned at sharp angles suddenly and seemingly randomly while tiny hidden other roads branched off of them to lead humans on even more dizzying paths.

Wherever he was, it wasn't quite quieter, but it was….more still. Humans weren't around, but there was evidence they frequented this spot. Canisters of some sort littered the ground near a large metal box. He wasn't too fond of those, but hiding amongst empty ones had recently been a benign habit.

He constantly kept an eye on the nearest box, in case a human did turn out to use it in a hostile manner or in case he needed to use it to hide, only to find something far more frightening than an approaching human. What frightens many animals, no matter their ability to reason or understand the universe they live it, is the unknown. Wraith are no exception. For the most part, when curiosity is mixed with fear, it is a concern that the status quo—their way of survival—is threatened. This, however, was a feeling of being overwhelmed, of mere helplessness as he had neither the force or the understanding to think is way out of this newness.

There was a whisper in his head, something that would speak up when the noise of the business around him would die down to it own version of silence, all the screams for attention letting themselves be ignored. He was used to hearing others, but this made a different noise than he was used to and only upon hearing it so strongly did he realize it was wrong—there were no other wraith her, no one to speak to him this way.

While the mysterious voice itself was frightening, what it was doing was the reason he felt overwhelmed and trapped again. The voice, slow and almost a feeling of vibration rather than a sound, was reciting the painted scrawls on the walls of the box.

He stood back and let the voice sweep over him, concentrating on nothing and blocking out everything, including his own thoughts while staring at the writing.

SAILOR M SAYS NEVER DO HEROINE AGAIN

It was then that he was truly taken aback. He new what the gibberish was trying to say. He knew the source of its incoherency. Except… he didn't know these things. It wasn't his mind this knowledge came from. It was wherever the voice was coming from. It was more than just a voice.

Todd stood where he was and waited.

The voice said nothing. It put nothing more in his head. After a whole minute of nothing, though, there was a foreign feeling of being apologetic.

Whatever he'd found, it likely wasn't leaving, but so far it desired to be helpful...though it had accomplished little in terms of safety. Todd figured he was on his own for the most part. Reading was no helpful achievement at the moment. If there was some message he needed, it certainly would be; Reading a sort word out of one of Rodney's 'Comic Books' had take about an hour and ended in the physician screaming act him for almost as long. What he needed was a way to contact someone else, and only them.

That was when the voice spoke up. Again, it was less of words than a mental hint, an explanation of a memory, not words. He knew what the canisters were for, and he knew how to keep his message secret from the unwanted.

As he picked up a canister, he wondered about the voice. It wasn't just a polite observer giving him information. It had taken information of his and used it to aid him. It barely contained words, nor even a real sentence, but it had given him reason to believe in its plan and not to wonder if it were a spy.

He wondered if he could talk to it, ask it what it was and see what it wanted in return.

All he received in return was a sense of alertness, which was not to be disturbed. Apparently, that was a topic for later, when he—perhaps both of them—was safer.

….

Rodney ad pinned a large map of San Francisco to a corkboard and hung it on the hotel wall, replacing one of the pictures—he hid that in a drawer and figured the hotel wouldn't mind save for finding it an annoying prank after they'd left.

The map was dotted with dozens of thumbtacks of various colors that marked different likelihoods that Todd had been to the marked place, each with a date and time pinned to the location as well. Rodney found no order to them, no outliers to eliminate, no geography to take into account, no possible distractions or deviations—let alone reasons for them.

John's fist slammed into it, setting the thumbtacks flying and smashing a hold through the corkboard and the wall. The board crashed to the floor and toppled over on the ripped map.

"He's done Rodney," Dr. Keller said, rolling her eyes.

Rodney crawled out from behind the bed he'd ducked behind. "What, are you a rockstar now?" he asked, standing up.

"John, you're bleeding!" Dr. Keller exclaimed, grabbing at his hand and missing.

"Eh," he replied. He couldn't feel the large gash on his hand. It didn't hurt at all. "It was a stupid idea anyway."

"Oh course it was. Did you think beating it up would make it tell you where Todd is?" Rodney asked.

"Who cares?" John complained. "We're just going to end up breaking things! And for your information, that-" He pointed to the broken board. "was a stupid idea."

"John, we can't just wait here until he hurts someone—if he hasn't already," Teyla said.

"You can punch him," Ronon suggested.

"He's already going to shoot him," Rodney said as he started to pick up stray thumbtacks.

"Can I punch him, then?" Ronon asked.

"This is why we can't find him in the first place!" John screamed, almost frowning out the knock at the door.

"Because you're crazy?" Rodney asked as Teyla opened the door.

"So, are you going to shoot him or not?" Ronon asked.

"Who is shooting someone?" Jesse asked as he and Woolsey walked into the room. He gave Woolsey a look expressing how he now wondered about the sanity of the group, silently asking him how concerned he should be for his physical health.

"I don't, think things are that bad," Woolsey said. Then he noticed the hole. "It probably looks worse than it is."

Even Teyla understood the threat from Jesse's concern; if the South Koreans took finding Todd into their own hands right now and right here, there probably would be casualties in the fight over authority and practice. "No one is going to shoot anyone," she said, hoping to at least calm everyone else down. "John is merely…upset about the past. The last few days haven't helped him."

"I…see," Jesse said, cautiously eyeing the hole in the wall. "Does this mean the wraith is in danger?"

John rolled his eyes as he began to clam down, mostly from the distraction that the gash on his hand was bleeding onto his pants an annoying him. "No, but we might have to dodge some punches."

"Why?" Dr. Keller asked, finally managing to get a hold of John's hand to tend to it. She wasn't looking forward to a much surlier patient with thousands of years of experience in defending himself, even if it was from a bandage.

"Todd was… burned by whoever had him," Teyla said. She was clam about it; as much as Todd was an ally, he was still a wraith. She'd seen them, felt them, far too much to be bothered by what little pity she had.

"Burned?" Dr. Keller asked. "How badly—hold still."

"Half his face. Lost an eye," John said. "Ow!"

"Hold still," Dr Keller said. "I'd certainly call losing an eye, especially like that, 'ow.'"

"More like 'blech'" Rodney said. "Why didn't you tell us earlier, I don't want to calm down a mad wraith with no depth perception."

"I don't know," John said. He didn't. He should have an answer, but he didn't. Why didn't he have an answer? He thought he'd had an answer, but h couldn't find it anymore. "I just thought.. I could handle that stuff."

"You asked me to help because Todd knew me," Dr. Keller said as she finished wrapping John's hand.

"Yeah, but I thought I'd be the one doing the talking," John said.

"Why?" Ronon asked. "All you do is yell at him."

"Yeah, and we saw how well that worked out," John said, feeling miserable now that his anger and adrenaline were spent. "I thought I'd have this figured out by now."

"You are not the only one," Jesse said, not letting his own disappointment show. He calmly kept a façade of confidence though the fact that his clothes and hair, as well as the weariness in his eyes, showed that the situation was wearing on him. They were hunting an alien through police reports, but he was the one telling other nations to let them. He'd spent the last five days talking to representatives of seven countries and three directors of the IOA, doing his best to convince them that anyone else taking over this mission or 'offering help' would just make things worse, all the while speaking with the South Korean president about the beaming station and diplomacy over it with the United States. Hassles of the everyday did nothing toward him keeping his sanity. "Could I perhaps borrow the colonel for a moment? You're free to punch me if it makes you think it will help. I'd rather not be shot, though."

"Is this going to take long?" John asked. He didn't need to waste more time on something that he might not care about in the first place. "Because I don't really go for yoga or whatever."

Jesse laughed, a pathetic, hollow attempt at a light and cheery mood. "If I thought that were so great, I'd merely have invested in gyms."

John shrugged and walked out onto the hotel balcony and Jesse followed. Everyone else stood there, wondering what to do after the door had closed. Now they had two problems on their hands that they couldn't solve. Sure, the answers had seemed easy for both of them, but the universe never turned out to work that way. It wasn't fair.

Rodney sighed. If there was one thing he had learned about this job, it was that demand always piled up, no matter how finished you were with your first project. If there were two things he had learned, it was that nearly everything about the stargate programs—whichever he had found himself working on—was just plain cleaning up. He could at least start with the thumbtacks.

…..

"The others are not fond of the wraith, are they?" Jesse asked.

"Well, Rodney's scared of most things, Todd once threatened to eating Woolsey, Teyla's people have been killed by wraith for years, Ronon's a runner—that when—"

"I've read your mission reports," Jesse interrupted.

"Right," John said. "So why the rhetorical question?"

"Do you think any differently about him?"

John shrugged. "Well, I feel kind of responsible for him… Just because he told us about the hive ship doesn't mean he can be trusted, but…I don't think he deserves to be dumped in Area 51. I know it's stupid, but I'm worried about the giant alien that eats people. I think earth's worse for him than the other way around."

"What do you intend to do when you find him?" Jesse asked.

Jon shrugged again. So far, it seemed to be his best tactic in the conversation. "Dunno. I've never been that good at planning like that. I just make it up as I go. So far threatening him has worked, but I don't think it'll work after all this."

"There is an alternative to area 51," Jesse said, leaning against the balcony railing.

"The brig on the beaming station?" John asked. "I don't think he'll find that an improvement. Mean, I'd sure love cable, but doubt he'd be interested. Plus, I think everyone would want it free for someone less dangerous."

"I was referring to somewhere he could enjoy a view of the stars, if he wanted," Jesse said.

"Where would that be exactly?" John asked.

"Back where he belongs," Jesse said. "There was a reason he was important leverage for the peace delegation. Both he and I know about the cure; the importance is in volunteers, not in safety anymore. The more the humans resist, the more the wraith fight back; the hungrier the wraith get, the more the humans fight back…he could help but a much more pleasant and very quick end to that."

"I don't think they'd be all that interested," John said. "Atlantis isn't really known for handing out cookies—at least not safe ones."

"That would be a good reason to make this an actual rescue," Jesse said. "Without breaking the rules—the important ones where someone ends up dead or walls are filled with holes, the little ones are fair game."

"So what's your plan?" John asked.

"I don't have one," Jesse said. "I make things up as I go, as well. I adapt to what I know. That was why I thought it would be best to ask your help. Taiji trusted me on it because no matter what he could do, I was chosen for the morals it had to give up to achieve what it had to. I trust you because you can do what I cannot, even with all my money and connections and offers."

John smiled at the insinuated compliment. "You've got everything planned out, don't you?"

"Enough to know I can rely on you," Jesse said, opening the door to the room.


End file.
